Harsh Reality
by Droiture LeReve
Summary: It's war. There are heroes on both sides. It's the ultimate clash of good versus evil. The problem is, no one can tell which is which. Least of all two commanding officers with secrets to share and a battle to win. Jackle X Reala. Yes, I went there.
1. Harsh Reality

Note: I had the sudden, most random urge to write this. I've seen nothing like it yet, and damned if I'm gonna let someone else start the trend. Muahaha.

This fic is rated Mature for good reason, so if you're not mature enough to read this, I suggest clicking that little back button right up there. Ya see it? It's right there. Yeah. If you don't like this, then I refuse to accept any flames or unpleasant reviews. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated, however, even worshipped. But flames will only make you look like a complete ass all over the internet, and just because people can't see you doesn't mean they will respect you. So keep your big wazoo shut. If you liked this, however, then by all means, feel free to click that blue button at the bottom of this page and tell me so!

Also, I have come up with longer, more "official" sounding names for the characters, as if those were their real names but the names we all know them as are only nicknames. See if you can guess who is who, but if you're truly stumped, I'll un-stump you and tell you. But try first, okay? It's not that hard to figure out. In fact, you'd have to be rather thick not to realize who was who.

Now let's get this show on the road before I forget what I was writing about. It's happened to me before, you know. I'll go too far into my own head and-- Hmm? What am I doing here? When did I get here? Who are all you people?! ARGH!!

**Chapter One: Harsh Reality**

War. Fighting. The inevitable showdown between good and evil; however, no one could truly be sure which was which. There were heroes on both sides, and the battle was bloody and lethal. Blood slicked the ground to the point where the remaining soldiers were having trouble keeping themselves upright long enough to fight without slipping and landing in a puddle of what used to be a comrade's very life force. Still, soldiers came pouring from all sides, surrounding each other and running like some sort of deadly, grotesque dance.

In the relative safety of the Tower, the commander surveyed the carnage. He had five stars affixed to his jacket, and his name-tag read _Harsh Reality_. He reached up with shimmering golden claws and tapped his headset, opening the frequency to his subordinate on the field.

Said subordinate got the ring and tapped his headset, a flash of silver affixed to a head that was never seen. "Yez, my commandeer?"

"What's going on down there?" The general snapped, his voice deep and powerful.

_"It iz nuz-sing, commandeer. We zeem to be weening ze fight, but zere is ztill much to do before ze battle can truly be called a veectory."_ The other replied in a heavy, stereotypical, French-sounding accent. _"Wait... what iz zat? Commandeer! Commandeer! Zere is somezing out zere, commandeer! Somezing large! It iz firing bombs in all directions! Comman--" _the line went dead.

"Hello? Hello? Jackle in the Field! Jackle in the Field, can you hear me? Jackle in the Field, do you copy!" The general growled in concern and irritation and, after clipping a small first-aid kit to his belt, flew from the window to search for his fallen comrade.

He flew over the heads of comrades and enemies alike, until he found the smoldering remains of the radio base tent. He surveyed the damage with piercing blue eyes, and, not seeing any signs of life, turned to fly away, until a small twitch of the vinyl caught his attention. He turned back and stared at the spot, waiting for some other sign. The fabric twitched again feebly, giving Harsh Reality the urge he needed to fly forward and drag the heavy tent off of whatever was causing the motion. He saw a flash of bright orange, another of white, a third of yellow...

Harsh Reality swore loudly as he lifted Jackle in the Field into his arms and flew to the sidelines of the battle. Loud clangs and crashes, along with explosions and shrieks of terror, echoed behind him. The quivering, unseen figure in his arms coughed as he opened his eyes.

"Commandeer, I apologize... I should 'ave been wash-ing ze battle az my orderz instructed, but I waz diztracted and now a large army has invaded our battlefield." Jackle in the Field coughed out blood.

"Save your energy." Harsh Reality snapped, trying to sound commanding, but the quiver in his voice told all.

"Commandeer, do not be worried about me! If I should die, I will 'ave played my part and died for ze sake of Nightmare."

"Damn it, Jackle, you're my best soldier, and I need you." Harsh Reality unclipped his first-aid kit from his belt and felt around for the largest of Jackle in the Field's wounds. The other jerked and hissed when Harsh Reality brushed against a raw burn, unseen but not unfelt. Harsh Reality opened the kit and pulled out a jar of salve, popping the top off and sticking his claws in it. He slathered the salve on the wound (or what he thought was close to it) and others he managed to find along the way. "Damn it, Jackle, this wouldn't be so difficult if I could see what I was doing."

"I am sorry, commandeer, I can not 'elp 'ow Master Wizeman formed me."

"I know, I know. I'm just stating an observation, is all." Harsh Reality fumbled in the kit for some bandages and began wrapping Jackle in the Field.

"Er... commandeer? I 'ave no wounds zere." Jackle in the Field stated confusedly as Harsh Reality began wrapping up his left thigh.

"I'm wrapping all of you so I can see you, dammit." Harsh Reality snapped back. Then his expression softened. "Because if I can see you, I'll know if you're injured rather than going on your word. Not that I don't trust your word, but I don't trust my hand more."

Jackle in the Field was silent for a time as Harsh Reality worked. "Zank you, commandeer."

"Think nothing of it." Harsh Reality finished bandaging his comrade and lifted him.

"Commandeer? Where are we going?"

"Back to the Tower. With you in the state you're in I don't trust you to lead an army."

"No, no, commandeer, please! It iz only a flesh wound! Please, commandeer, I can ztill fight!" Jackle in the Field attempted to struggle from his commander's grip.

"Jackle in the Field, are you disobeying a direct order?!" Harsh Reality roared, tightening his grip. Jackle in the Field stiffened. He was fiercely loyal to a fault, and refused to disobey orders if it meant his life. He slackened, and his large, bright green eyes cast downward at the distant ground.

"Commandeer...! Commandeer... _non. Non, _I will obey..." Jackle whispered, defeated. He went limp in Harsh Reality's arms as the commanding general flew back into the window of the Tower, and into Jackle in the Field's own bedroom, decorated with bright, eye-watering colors and casino-like music and objects. He placed his mummy-like comrade on his bed, which was a giant roulette wheel with a pillow and blanket set up on it, and sat down beside him.

"Commander Jackle in the Field, look at me." Harsh Reality ordered. Jackle in the Field cast his eyes up. "Look, you and I both know you're too injured to fight. For Wizeman's sake, man, you were caught in a direct explosion. I know you want to go back out there and win one for the home team, but I won't allow you. You're the best we've got. The best_ I've_ got. I'm not letting the best I've got go out there and kill himself needlessly. You and I both want the bloodshed to end. This war will never end so long as the other side has soldiers willing to fight. This war could go on for a very long time. Why die now? Why kill yourself now when you could live to see it end?"

Jackle in the Field raised a hand shakily, as if he were going to reach out for Harsh Reality's hand, but merely laid it back down and turned his head away, so his commanding officer couldn't see his tears. Jackle in the Field was fiercely loyal to Harsh Reality for many reasons, most of which he refused to express to anyone but himself, and many of which involved emotions that weren't supposed to exist. Not in Nightmaren. All Jackle in the Field wanted was for the war to end, for the fighting and the suffering to cease. On the battlefield he was renowned as a lunatic of a warrior, able to utterly demolish armies single-handedly, able to move so fast it was considered magic. But frankly, Jackle in the Field did not like to fight. On the field, he allowed himself to be lost in the thrill of the chase; he allowed himself to be consumed in hatred for his enemy. However, Jackle in the Field was only following orders.

He would only follow Harsh Reality's orders. Even the Master Wizeman himself didn't understand why Jackle in the Field would only obey orders if they were relayed through Harsh Reality. It was as if Harsh Reality were the only other person in Nightmare, as if the others didn't even exist.

Jackle in the Field would prefer to sit in his room, surrounded by the bright lights and colorful music, and contemplate his own being.

"Jackle, don't hide your tears. I as well wish only for the fighting to end."

"Z... zat iz not why I weep, Commandeer."

Harsh Reality smiled softly.

"For God's sake, Jackle. That's not my name."

"It iz not why I weep, Harsh Reality."

"Thatta boy."

Harsh Reality reached a hand out and tentatively patted Jackle in the Field's shoulder. "Why do you weep? Is it for each soldier who's blood is shed? Nothing can change the cause of all this. It's in the past and the bloodshed is the result."

_"Quand le massacre cessera-t-il, mon ami ?" _Jackle in the Field slipped into French.

"It will cease when there is nothing left to fight for." Harsh Reality replied, looking out of the window to see a sharp contrast to the bright, overwhelming primary colors of Jackle in the Field's bedroom to the dark, shadowed storm outside, riddled with clangs of weaponry and the sharp _crack _of the cannons and bombs exploding.

_"Qu'est-ce qui doit là lutter pour ?" _Jackle in the Field asked softly. Harsh Reality looked back at him.

"I don't know, Jackle. I couldn't tell you. However, I know that no matter the reason for this war, I know that it's our duty to see it through. You get some rest, Jackle. I'll be back in later to check up on you."

". . . _Oui." _

Jackle in the Field nodded silently as Harsh Reality left the room, closing the door behind him and flying back out to join the battle.

Jackle in the Field was left alone to think.

He looked out the window, desperately wishing for a way to rise and rejoin his commander-- no, his friend, out there on the battlefield. He wanted to protect him, to shield him from any fatal blow. Harsh Reality had always been there for him, so why now, why at this moment, when it could have been his turn to repay him, did he have to get himself blown up? Jackle in the Field felt useless, alone, hopeless. He let out an anguished, strangled howl of physical pain and mental torment. Tears streamed down his invisible face like rivers, mingling with the remaining blood left on his body.

_"Dieu, s'il vous plaît, je lutte pour la Réalité Dure!" _


	2. Agony

Note: I realized I forgot to disclaimer the last chapter. Oops. I don't own NiGHTS, so please don't sue me.

**Chapter Two: Agony**

Jackle in the Field (known better as Jackle) lay wracked with pain, as his wounds glistened with fresh blood through the bandages that encompassed his body. He lay, agonized with the harsh sting of numerous deep burns. The pain did not seem as bad before, when Harsh Reality--

_Reala. He 'as instructed me zeveral times to call 'im Reala. _Jackle thought to himself idly. He was desperate for the comfort his friend brought to him. Being alone in this large, overwhelmingly bright room only served to increase his anxiety and suffering.

_I want to be out zere! I want to fight alonzide him! _Jackle's mind raced at a thousand miles per hour. Thoughts appearing and disappearing, ideas rising and fading, anguish swirling like a tornado of fire. _He was counting on me! He said I am 'is best! I must be out zere with him! _Jackle struggled and fought against the bandages, but the agony of his burns only increased and he was left a quivering, wildly-thrashing, howling ball of pain.

Meanwhile, on the front, Harsh Reality (known as Reala to those closest) had a call patched through from Master Wizeman himself. Or, to be more precise, one of his six omnipotent hands, as that was all that could fit in front of the camera. And even then, the tops of all the fingers were cut off the screen and the eye in the center took up most of the screen.

"My Lord! What is it I can assist you with?" He asked, dropping to one knee in front of the video screen, bowing respectfully to his lord and liege.

_"I have reports of Commander Jackle being removed from the battlefield."_

"Er, yes, my lord. A bomb went off far too close to his base, sir, and he was afflicted with burns. Nasty ones too. I did my best to patch him up--"

_"Yes, I know. Your first aid did save his life, however, there is a problem."_

"A- p-a- p- a problem, sir?"

_"Yes. From what I understand, he is desperate to be back on the field."_

"Sir, he's in no condition to be fighting! He can barely move!"

_"I understand, but he seems desperate and I deem it prudent to remove you from the field of battle to care for him."_

"Me, my lord?"

_"Do I stutter? Yes, Harsh Reality, you! You and I both know full well that he will only answer to you."_

Reala nodded. "Yes, my lord. I shall be in shortly." The screen shut off.

Reala flew back to the Tower, where a soldier relayed to him the information on Jackle's condition.

"Sir, he's screaming in French again, sir. I think he's really in pain--"

_"La seule angoisse est mon oisiveté! Permettez-moi de vous protéger!" _The call shrieked from Jackle's bedroom.

"Sir, I have no idea what that meant, but it sounded bad and I think you should help him out--"

"I know what to do, impudent brat! Get back on the field and stop standing around!" Reala snapped.

"Yessir!"

Reala ran into Jackle's room and was disgusted and horrified at what he found.

Jackle was thrashing wildly, his bandages having come loose, and coughing up blood. Blood also gushed from his burns, having reopened them with his jerking about. He was howling in pain and kept screaming in rapid French to_ Permettez-moi de lutter ou me permettre de mourir! _

"I'm not letting you do either, Jackle!" Reala snapped. Jackle suddenly became still as his head jerked towards the sound. He was panting, out of breath, and sobbing, and all in all looked quite manic.

_"La Réalité Dure ... vous est intacte. Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! Vous êtes vivants!" _Jackle began sobbing now, not out of agony, but out of joy.

"Please, Jackle, speak English for a change..." Reala said softly. Although he understood and spoke French fluently, it would still be nice of Jackle to speak English every once and a while.

"You... are alive!"

"Yes, I am. Goddamn, Jackle. Did you do this to yourself?"

"You were... out on ze battlefield. You were alone. I..."

"You wanted to protect me."

_"Un homme veut seulement pour un aimé le voir toute la fin." _Jackle said softly. He cast his eyes from Reala, tears welling up once more. _"Après que les Ténèbres des Nuits étaient parties et Savent que Thyself a été tué, vous êtes tout ce que je suis parti. Je ne comprends pas pourquoi vous ne le verrez pas." _

"I know, Jackle, I know..." Reala gave a shuddering exhale of breath, as if he were as well on the verge of tears. He laid his head down at Jackle's side, not caring that his blood-red hair got covered in his comrade's blood. It was the same color, so what did it matter? Jackle fisted his hand in Reala's hair, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that he knew, somewhere in his torrential maelstrom of a mind, that the Reala in front of him was not an illusion or some sick, twisted trick of the light, but his true friend, his brother.

The stench of blood, copper-like and musty, filled Reala's senses like he was drowning in it. It filled his lungs, his nose, his heart, even his very soul stank of blood and death.

_"La bagarre finira quand il n'y a rien pour lutter pour." _they said together, a unison of two voices in the air.

"Jackle--"

"Do not worry yourself with me. I zhall be fine. I... You must underztand, Reala, zat you truly are all I 'ave left. I fought my bonds because I was not zure if you would be alive come next morning. I wanted to zave you from zat final blow that would snuff out the last flickering embers zat is your 'eart."

"You wouldn't dare outlive me, you bastard." Reala's feeble attempt at a wicked joke got the two participating in feeble, weak laughter.

"You are right. I would 'ang myself in ze corridor before I let 'arm befall you." Jackle admitted, his eyes still cast from the face of his friend. "Because you are my brother."

"As you are mine."

Silence befell the room. It impregnated the air like a thick fog of death. The metallic tang of blood still hung in the air like some wicked perfume.

"Reala..."

"Jackle. Please. Shall we make a pact? If we are to die, we are to die together, or not at all."

"I... I zhall live a thouzand years or more before I decide to die without you, my brother." Jackle said softly, finally looking Reala in the eye. Jackle's emerald eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and they brimmed with emotion he'd never thought he'd allow himself to feel.

"Thank you... my brother." With that sentiment, Reala lifted his head and moved forward, attempting to estimate (from the position of his eyes and the bandage across his nose) where Jackle's lips were, and placed a chaste kiss upon them. He was only slightly off, and with a few more tries and a heated embrace, managed to find the other's lips and kiss them fervently. It seemed as though time itself would freeze, and the battle outside was nothing but light rain. Blood-soaked sheets and bodies meant nothing. All of Jackle's agony, the pain with which he was afflicted, and the burning sensation of flames upon his skin, all seemed to wither to nothing in Reala's arms, as if his arms were made of magic, a magic that could heal wounds of the flesh and of the heart.

Tongues danced in an epic, romantic waltz; Jackle's eyes slid shut and to the outside world it would have looked as if Reala were kissing a pile of blood-soaked laundry. But, invisible as they were, Jackle's lips were real, as was his heart. Tears slid through Jackle's closed eyes as they parted for breath.

_"Mon frère, mon ami, mon protecteur, mon amant." _Jackle whispered lovingly.

"Oh, God, Jackle, I swear, I'll never let you feel pain again..." Reala whispered back, laying his head on the unseen bloody chest. "For years I hid myself behind a mask of stone... After Shadows of the Nights left us, and Know Thyself was killed..." Reala's body wracked and spasmed with silent wrenching sobs.

"You and I are ze only ones left, Reala. You and I are what remains of ze bond of four brothers. For years you 'id yourself behind a facade of ice and 'atred but iz it truly only I zat can get you to weep?"

"Only you ever stuck around long enough to try." Reala confessed. The warmth of Jackle's unseen arms was sickly, but sweet. Those arms, soaked in hot blood, gave Reala a sick, twisted kind of warmth that he felt disgusted in himself for enjoying.

"You an' I, brother, I know zis to be true. We... somezing put us in Nightmare to find a new purpose. I can feel it. We were not meant to be mere zoldiers in a fool's war."

"Jackle, people are dying, men are dying, women, children, Nightopians, Nightmarens, everything is perishing around us and you call this a fool's war?!"

"Only a fool would fight anoz-er living creature! Aren't we all in life? Aren't all lives worth zaving?" Jackle snapped back, his voice rising to desperate, maniacal levels. His fingers clawed into Reala's scalp angrily, leaving red welts in their wake, hidden by his blood red elbow-length hair.

"You don't think I understand that?!" Reala retorted hotly, whipping himself off of Jackle's bed with a heated _slap _of hand against bloody sheets. "You don't think for a second that I know that this whole war is a mistake?! That all this death and bloodshed could be ended if Master Wizeman got his head out of his arse and saw the other side for once?! But think for once, Jackle, think! All around us people are dying, no, I take that back, people are being goddamn _massacred _right in front of our very eyes and nothing we do can end it! Nothing short of publicly committing suicide would get these thickheaded idiots to see the light!" Reala's mouth snapped shut as what he just said hit him.

"Reala! Don't zpeak like zat!" Jackle nearly shrieked, his eyes wide with fear. "I said I would die with you but never will I let you take your own life!"

"I know, I'm sorry." Reala said. "But it's only true! Only when they see that someone has died rather than fight a battle so unrewarding as this..." Reala motioned to the window, where a large splatter of unmistakable blood obscured their vision for a moment before it was washed away by the rain. "See that, Jackle? Even the blood of the innocents dragged into this foolhardy war, the only proof that those innocent people ever even existed is washed away by the passage of time! Soon there will be nothing left and we'll be left to shoulder the guilt."

"Before, Brother... you zaid zat it was our duty to zee zis war through to ze end."

"I've changed my mind, alright?! Duty can kiss my powder-blue arse, I'm not getting involved in this... this... _fool's war _any longer!" Reala shrieked, throwing his arms to his sides forcefully. Twinkle Dust flew from his hands and exploded like tiny smoke bombs on the floor in his rage. He stood in place, panting for breath, as his expression rapidly transformed to one of grotesque anger to one of sorrow, and he collapsed to his knees and gasped in breath before burying his head in his hands and letting his entire body tear itself apart in silent sobs. Jackle struggled and fought, and eventually managed to land painfully on the floor, where he crawled on his hands and knees to Reala. He reared himself up as high as he could go, and fell forwards, draping his arms around Reala in a heavy embrace.

"My brother... do not weep for it. Please, if you should weep, weep for yourself, as your heart is finally becoming whole once again."

Reala was still. "My... heart?"

"I knew. I acted as if I did not, but I knew. When Nights left, when Selph was killed, it destroyed your heart. It ripped it in two and now, you are finally becoming whole."

"Oh, God, Jackle, I just want it all to end...!" Reala choked.

"I know, brother, and it will. Zomeday. Zomeday when all iz peazful, you will no longer weep."

Reala searched Jackle's eyes desperately with his own before plunging forward and capturing his lips in a desperate, heated, bruising kiss. His eyes screwed shut and his hands reaching for whatever skin or clothes or flesh they could reach, Reala conveyed every emotion he'd ever felt in his life through that kiss. Anger at his brother for betraying the cause... Sorrow over his oldest brother's murder... Pity for himself and those soldiers being killed... Remorse for the things he'd said and actions he'd taken...

Slowly, and as if by magic, both brothers began to rise into the air. A flash of bright light alerted their attention, and they broke apart.

Reala gasped at the sight before him.

_"Mon Dieu..." _he breathed.


	3. Same Problems, Different Home

Note: Don't own NiGHTS, only my full, long-ass names for the characters. Whoo.

**Chapter Three: Same Problems, Different Home**

_"Mon Dieu..." _Reala repeated to the sight in front of him.

"What? Do I 'ave somezing stuck to me?" Jackle looked down at himself and made a strangled noise of shock.

In place where there was nothing before, just an empty cloak, gloves, and boots, now held flesh and bone. Lightly tanned skin, dotted with freckles and other signs of sun exposure stuck out boldly from the black inner lining of Jackle's cloak. Lean muscle gave his body shape and form, but not enough to look repulsive.

His wounds had disappeared, and only light scars were left, as if they'd healed on their own.

Jackle reached up to touch his own face and body, in strict disbelief that what he was seeing was true. As he placed a hand over his own heart, a flash of light and suddenly Jackle wore an orange turtleneck sweater, the sleeves cut off, and yellow-orange pants that seemed to be made of some sort of PVC or leather.

"Reala... What... what in ze--"

"I... I don't know." Reala reached forward tentatively to touch Jackle's chest, over his heart. A steady _thump, thump, thump _at least let Reala know that they weren't dead.

_"Que voulez-vous dire, vous ne savez pas ? Vous êtes les élégants!" _Jackle snapped in French, obviously nervous at what he was seeing.

"Oh, and I suppose you think I've seen this before? Good God, Jackle, think! I don't know where we are or what's going on!" Reala motioned all around them. They seemed to be floating inexorably in midair over what looked like a city. Tall buildings with smokestacks polluted the air. Cars honking and beeping below them, obviously traveling home at rush hour after a long day's work. A water tower painted in rainbow colors, faded from the smog and age. Drivers below them were screaming obscenities at one another. Everything around them screamed of the harsh, desolate reality parallel to the world of Dreams.

_"En ce qui concerne la bataille ? Qui luttera dans notre endroit ?" _Jackle asked.

"I don't know! What if we're in some alternate timeline where that war never began? What if we're in the future where the war is already over? What if we're in another world and innocent people are being slaughtered as we speak?"

"We 'ave got to find zomeone 'oo can 'elp us!"

Reala flew forward and landed on the ground. As he did so, another flash of light blinded him for a moment. When the flash subsided, and Reala's vision regained itself, Jackle began screaming.

"_Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! _Reala, look! You are not yourzelv anymore!"

Reala looked down and gave a "Gyahh!" sound of shock. He too, had changed form. His black tape across his arms and chest replaced with a mere black shirt. His legs formed light blue camoflauge-patterned jeans, as if his legs themselves stretched and hollowed to become pant legs. There were no legs inside the pants, yet Reala could still move and walk as if he had. The jeans stretched to the ground, covering his feet completely. His gloves changed to match his shirt. He no longer wore his Persona mask, instead a pair of golden goggles was affixed to the top of his head. His bluish skin turned to a mere ivory white, and the small bat shapes that adorned his skin became powder-blue tattoos. His hair pulled itself back into a low tie at the base of his neck, pleating itself into a long, low braid. His vest shattered like glass and reformed in the air into a red-and-black wooden board, rounded at the edges and had small plastic wheels on brackets screwed to the bottom. The board was patterned like his armor, in flames.

When Jackle landed, his cloak suddenly disappeared, shattered like glass, the shards rising into the air, and re-formed into an orange, yellow, and white wooden board, rounded at the edges and had small plastic wheels on brackets screwed to the bottom. The board was patterned like his cloak, in bright triangles and geometric shapes. It landed in his hands and he was forced to stick his arms out to catch it. His bright orange hair shortened and became slightly curly at the ends, now going only to his shoulders rather than the small of his back, and falling down just over one green eye.

As if they had merely been walking down the street like anyone else, no one seemed to notice the events.

"Hey look, boys. New meat." A sinister voice sounded from behind the pair. They swirled around to see a large, bulky teen advancing on them. He wore a simple band T-shirt and jeans, but they looked worn and old. "You boys new around here? Ya must be, otherwise you'd know that this turf belongs to me."

_"Et que devez-vous réclamer des droits de ce terrain ?" _Jackle asked haughtily.

"Ooh, a couple of foreign boys. Or just a couple 'a eggheads flaunting their brains?" The teen had piercing golden-green eyes, and a voice that sounded like glass shattering in a warehouse; loud, grainy, and demanding full attention.

"Jackle, we don't know why we're here, so please don't antagonize the locals, alright?" Reala whispered angrily, grabbing Jackle's now-visible arm sharply.

"Listen to yer buddy, there, Red."

_"Vous n'avez aucun droit de la demande de moi! J'écoute la Réalité Dure seulement!" _Jackle nearly shouted.

The teen and his stooges, who had hung back, began laughing raucously.

"I dunno what you said, smart guy," the teen began, "but I don't think I like it." He finished angrily. "So you better keep your little foreign mouth shut, ya hear me, Frenchy? This is my turf and you're trespassin'!"

Reala stuck a sharply-clawed hand (with his fingers, he saw, were tinted golden, like heavy nicotine stains, while his fingernails remained a bold shade of pink) up to silence the teen.

"No one," Reala started angrily, "And I mean _no one _on this Earth or any other is permitted to speak to my brother in that way. If you have a problem, you may take it up with myself alone. Do I make myself clear? Who do you think you are?!"

The group erupted in laughter once again. "I'm the guy you shouldn't be fuckin' with. How's about we settle this the old fashioned way? "

"And what way is that?" Reala asked through gritted fangs.

"You dunno? Hey, boys, they must be new! They got skateboards in their hands and don't know how to use 'em?!" The group of punks laughed hard enough that one of them dropped his melting ice cream in his lap and another fell from his seat.

Reala looked down at the wooden board in his hand. He mouthed the word "skateboard?" to Jackle confusedly, as he'd never heard the word before and apparently neither had Jackle, who merely shrugged as if to say, "I don't know either."

The teen leader wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and said, "Alright, boys, you put me in a good mood, so I'll give ya a little handicap. You got three days to learn to skate. Then, you come back here and we have a little tourney. You don't show and I'll come find you, and you won't like it when I do. I'm not the type to be left waitin'." He snarled, pointing a long, silver dagger straight at Reala's throat. Reala didn't even blink, instead he merely shot the teen a withering look.

"Tell me, young man," Reala snarled, "Do you often have dreams?"

"Say what now?" The teen dug the tip of the knife a little deeper into Reala's newfound throat.

"Do you often have dreams?" Reala repeated calmly.

"Yeah."

"About what, dare I ask?"

"None of yer business, girly man!"

"Come on, we're all _men _here. You can trust me." Reala smirked in the face of Death, his black lips twisting upwards.

"I dream about beatin' up punks like you, tellin' me who to trust! I don't trust no one but myself and those three back there." The kid pointed over his shoulder at his three stooges.

"Hmm. Pity. A dream lost is a fate worse than Death. Come, Jackle, we've got a bit of skating to do, do we not?" Reala backed up a few steps and then turned to leave.

_"Je suis juste derrière vous! Nous leur montrerons!" _Jackle called as he ran after him. He looked back and gave the group a nasty glare.

"Freaks!" The teen called from behind them. "See you in three days, dream freak!" Jackle stiffened and growled angrily, his glare icing over until his eyes were practically shooting ice from their sockets. Reala kept going, unaware.

Reala turned a corner and found himself surrounded by a crowd of people. He looked around and Jackle had gone.

"Jackle? Jackle? Jackle in the Field, are you there? Jackle! _Le chacal dans le Champ, m'entendez-vous ?" _He called, using Jackle's native French to call for him. "Blast, I've lost him!"

"Excuse me, young lady, are you lost?" Reala snapped his head to the side to see an ancient old woman, thin and bony, smiling up at him. She wore sunglasses around her neck on a thin rope, and wobbled, holding onto her walker for dear life.

"I'm male." He said simply, before adding, "And yes, I do seem to find myself lost. I've lost my brother in this blasted crowd as well. Have you seen him?" Reala asked.

"It depends my dear!"

"He's about yea high, blazing redhead, dressed in orange, probably yammering to himself in French?" Reala offered, making various hand motions.

"Oh, yes, the boy with the skateboard. He seemed to be headed back that way, dear." Reala followed the woman's pointing finger... back the way he had come.

"Blast! He's gone back to deal with them on his own!" Reala tried to jump and get himself airborne, but only managed to fall back to earth and make a fool of himself by landing in the trash can. People were pointing and giggling. Reala groaned, pulled himself upright, and threw the skateboard down in front of him, jumping on top of it and skating as fast as he could without falling back towards the skate park. He picked up the board and walked in, and saw a flash of orange in his peripheral vision.

"Jackle! Jackle, there you-- Oh, God..."

"Your friend here decided to get mouthy. We did you a favor, Red." Jackle lay sobbing on his side on the ground, blood gushing from between his fingers as he clutched his face tightly.

"What the hell did you do to him?!" Reala shrieked, dropping to his knees to assist his brother.

"We taught him what happens when you get mouthy with the Silver Blade Gang!" called one of the three lackeys flanking the leader.

_"La Réalité Dure, la Réalité Dure, s'il vous plaît, oh Dieu, aidez-moi s'il vous plaît! Il fait mal!" _Jackle choked. Reala gingerly pulled his hands away from his face and saw a large, long, thick, deep, and nasty-looking gash going diagonally across Jackle's face, having blinded one eye and ripped his upper and lower lips cleanly in two. His two front teeth were knocked out and both of his top canines were broken neatly in half. He sobbed pathetically. He was covered in bruises and cuts. He'd been beaten, and badly.

"Oh, Jackle..." Reala breathed, agonized.

"_Oh, Jackle!" _The gang leader mocked in a high-pitched voice, laughing maniacally.

Reala growled angrily and leapt to his feet. He flipped around to face the gang and let the tattoos streaking his eyes tell the tale.

"Jackle is the only family I've got left. We fought a war together. We've been defeated together. We've won together. Nothing, and I repeat, nothing you say or do can get you out of what I'm about to do to you. If you value your lives, lost Dreamers, you'll run, and run far. But even then, you won't escape. I'll find you. And I will. Kill. You."

"Ooh, scary! Don't hurt me, girly!" The leader mocked.

"_Your overconfidence will be your downfall, you sick bastard!" _Reala screamed, and like some sort of twisted magic, lunged at the leader with speed rivaling that of something seen only in a cartoon. In a stunning move of rage and agony, he shoved his claw-like hand forward, and felt it sink deep into open flesh. His hand felt cold once again in open air, and the three lackeys who were previously laughing were now screaming in horror and backing away slowly, transfixed and horrified. There was a wet _squelch _on the ground and the pulsating object Reala clutched dropped from his grip and landed on the ground in a spray of red. Reala yanked his hand back, and the teen gurgled and fell backwards, where a neat, clean, open hole in his chest revealed where Reala had punched clean through him and torn out his heart. Reala rounded on the three thugs, who were pushing and shoving each other in order to get to the exit first.

"Not so fast, you freaks!" Reala lunged at his skateboard, throwing it underneath him and zooming towards the bulky teens. He then jumped, did a backflip in midair, grabbed his board on the way down, and threw it with as much force as he could muster, where it landed with a resounding _crack! _against one's head, shattering his thick skull. He jumped higher, did a midair pirouette move, and spun his foot around viciously, landing a sharp, fatal kick to the second lackey's throat.

"Dude!" The third cried in fear, a distinct Hispanic accent sounding to his voice, "Who are you, man?"

Reala smirked evilly, his eyes still flaming with rage.

"I'm the guy you shouldn't be fuckin' with." And, in a twist of bittersweet irony, slashed his claws across the third lackey's face, blinding him permanently. The teenager screamed in horror and pain. "And now, I'm feeling generous. Get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind, and don't let me see you around here again. If I do, you'll end up like your friends."

A siren sounded in the distance. The third lackey grinned. "Ha ha ha! It's the cops! They're gonna get you for what you did to my friends!" He cried, his voice a mixture of cockiness and terror.

Reala cursed loudly and turned back towards Jackle. He lifted his brother into his arms and said, _"Entendez ces sirènes, le frère ? Nous devons quitter cet endroit avant qu'ils arrivent un peu plus près." _softly into his ear. Jackle nodded and sniffed in pain.

_"J'ai cru que je n'allais pas ne faire mal plus..." _Jackle mumbled.

_"Je sais, mon frère, je sais. La douleur cessera bientôt." _Reala replied lovingly before turning and running full-speed, hoisting his brother into one arm so he could quickly grab his skateboard, and Jackle's, on the way out.

Reala ran until his lungs gave out. He put Jackle down underneath a boardwalk on the beach. Jackle was wiping the blood away from his face with his arms. Reala put down the two skateboards and collapsed, panting heavily, on his hands and knees.

_"Ainsi il y a la guerre ici aussi..." _Jackle said quietly, fingering his blinded eye gingerly.

"Wh-what was that... Jackle?" Reala panted loudly, his lungs on fire and his throat dry.

"I zaid, 'So, zere is war 'ere too...'" Jackle replied in his heavily accented English.

"Hmm." Reala replied simply. Jackle dragged himself into a sitting position and hugged his knees like a small child. Reala finally caught his breath and sat down beside him. "But the war here is subtle and dark. The war in Nightmare is open and bloody."

"It iz ztill war, iz it not?" Jackle asked.

"It is, I agree, but warfare comes in many forms."

"It does not matter! Warfare iz warfare, an' we are once again caught in ze middle of ze fighting. Will it ever cease?"

"No. If there's anything I've learned in life it's that war will always break out, because history will always repeat itself in an endless cycle. It's only a matter of time before this world, like our own, has become so ruined and collapsed that primitive warfare will start again, and swords will be used in duels rather than bombs. It's only a matter of time, Jackle, before this world crumbles like our own is."

"Why do you zink we left our world, Reala?"

"If I recall, you said something about us being there for a purpose, not just to be soldiers in a foolish war."

"Do you believe zis purpose was to leave Nightmare, an' ztart again zomewhere new?"

"Dear God, Jackle, at this point I don't know what to believe."


	4. Familiarity

Note: Don't own NiGHTS. Just letting you know now.

**Chapter Four: Familiarity**

"Jackle, I have to ask you something."

"Hmm?"

"_What the hell were you thinking, you idiot, going off to fight those thugs alone?!" _Reala nearly shrieked as he delivered an angry backhand to the back of Jackle's skull.

_"Le frère, vous me faites mal! Calmez-vous et permettez-moi d'expliquer!" _Jackle replied, flinching as Reala's knuckles came in contact with his head. "Zey inzulted you! Zey called you a dream-freak! I was not going to ztand around and lizzen to zem zay zat!"

Reala shook his head. "Jackle, really! I appreciate your enthusiasm, I really do, but now you've only got one eye to see out of and there are police swarming the whole bloody city looking for us! It's only a matter of time before some child walks under here and recognizes us."

As if on cue, a large inflatable beach ball bounced under the boardwalk and landed a few feet from Reala and Jackle, spraying them with a light mist of sand. A blonde teenage boy came running after it, his swim trunks a violent shade of purple and a lock of hair over his right eye the same violent purple. He had the oddest tattoo on his chest in the shape of a shimmering red diamond shape, and dark markings (Reala was unable to distinguish if they were tattoos or scars) on his arms of elegant, intricate patterns that ran from his shoulders to his wrists, where he had purple-and-yellow wristbands.

"Sorry! Sorry! I hit it too hard!" His voice was vaguely feminine and sounded oddly familiar to Reala, but he just couldn't place his finger on it. "Did I hit you?" The boy asked.

"_Non." _Jackle replied, pushing the ball back gently.

"Golly holly! What happened to your eye!" The boy asked, bending down and poking Jackle in the face.

_"Arrêtez de me pousser doucement! Il fait toujours mal, vous savez!" _Jackle snapped, reeling away from the teen.

"What'd ya say?"

"He said, 'Stop prodding me! It still hurts, you know!' " Reala replied.

"Hey, Little 'I'! You got the ball back?" Another pubescent voice called out.

"Oops! Yeah, I got it!" The teen called back, before picking up his ball and turning to leave. He turned back for a moment and said, "Wanna come play ball with us?"

"We're somewhat on the run right now, if you know what I mean." Reala replied dryly.

"Ohhhh, you're those guys on the poster! The cops are all over the place looking for you guys! Did you really take out the Silver Blade Gang?"

"Three of them, anyway. I took out the eyes of the last one and let him stumble home to his mother whining like a little bitch." Reala smirked evilly.

"That's so cool! They were awful. They would beat up anyone who got in their path. Don't worry, I won't sell you out. 'K?"

"_Little 'I'! Do you have the ball or not?!" _

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" The one called Little "I" ran off, waving to Reala and Jackle. "Bye! You should come play with us sometime!"

After the teen had left, Jackle turned to Reala and said, _"Cela peut être ma conversation de perception de profondeur diminuée, mais ce gamin a-t-il regardé comme les Nuits ?" _

"You have a point. Only NiGHTS would wear that violent shade of purple. But it couldn't be. NiGHTS is back in Nightmare, trapped in an Ideya Palace, is he not? There hasn't been a proper Dreamer in ages! You should just drop that idea completely, Jackle, it's wholeheartedly impossible."

"You are right... NiGHTS, 'ere? Ze idea iz laughable!" They shared a good laugh.

After a while, the teen called Little "I" came back.

"Hya! My buds went home, so I came to hang out!"

Reala gave a halfhearted wave from his spot behind a pillar, as he was currently deeply engrossed with his hunt. His claw was shoved up to the elbow in the sand.

"Got it!" He pulled his claw out and clutched in his deadly grip were about four small clams, which he promptly threw into a small bucket he'd formed out of sand like a sculpture, which he'd assigned Jackle to keep moist so it wouldn't crumble.

"Whatcha doin'?" Little "I" asked.

"Getting food. I haven't eaten in two thousand years and suddenly I have an urge for seafood." Reala replied dryly.

"Yeah, sometimes it feels like that to me too. I don't have a lot of money so I'm without food some days." Little "I" replied. "It's hard enough making the rent."

"No, seriously. I haven't had food in two thousand years." Reala replied, ripping a chunk of the wooden support beam off and picking up a rough shell. He dropped the wood on the sand and struck his claws across the shell, creating a spark. The wood immediately flared up and ignited.

"Wow! I wish I could do that!" Little "I" said.

"I learned it long ago. Come on, dinner's here." Reala grabbed the clams and dumped them directly on the flames. They sat in silence for a while.

"So... how are you supposed to get them back out?"

"Like this." Reala stuck his hand into the flames and grabbed a clam. The fire didn't even bother him one bit. Little "I" gasped and squeaked. "What? You never saw an angry fugitive stick his hand in a campfire before?" Reala asked, smirking evilly. He cracked open the clam and popped the meat into his mouth.

"No. Where I come from, fire is usually considered a bad thing."

"Where do you come from? Can't be from around here, your hair's too purple."

"You're gonna think I'm crazy... but I will say that you guys look like you're from there too."

"I would not coun' on it, youn' man. We are from a plaze where war ravagez ze land until ze ground iz zlicked with ze blood of zoldiers." Jackle replied darkly.

"Really? I didn't know that. Is that why you came to the city?" Little "I" asked, chomping down on a clam, shell and all.

"We came to zis zity not of our own choice."

"Jackle, quiet!" Reala snapped.

Little "I" ceased crunching.

"Jackle?"

"Zat iz my name, _oui." _Jackle said, popping a bit of clam meat into his mouth.

"I... I had a brother who's nickname was Jackle." Little "I" whispered. "He liked to gamble."

Reala did half a spit-take and choked. Both Reala and Jackle stared at Little "I" weirdly.

_"Nuits?!" _Jackle blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Little "I" replied. He looked at Reala closely, then gasped and jumped back. "R-Reala?!"

"NiGHTS?!"

Reala jumped to his feet too hard and heard a sickening pop in his left knee, and went over like a lead balloon, howling.

"Reala, I didn't know it was you! You look so different! What are you doing here?!"

"If we knew, _Nuits, _we would tell _vous." _Jackle replied.

"After Wizeman was defeated the second time, I fell asleep and woke up here! I thought it was a dream but I've been here ever since!" NiGHTS cried. "I figured this is the place where lost Dreamers go when they die, or something. That's when I met the Silver Blade Gang. I was scared, and they offered to let me in their club, and I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I accepted. But when I saw the bad things they were doing, I tried to get out. They didn't like that, and they strapped me down to a table and starting cutting my arms up. They left me for dead but I escaped." NiGHTS explained.

Reala looked at NiGHTS' arms more closely. The intricate markings he'd passed off as tattoos now revealed themselves to be deep cuts, which had only half-healed and still remained intricate, thin scabs.

"I guess you wouldn't know any way else to get home, then." Reala muttered.

"No, I'm sorry. But I'll work day and night on it, I promise. I want to go home as much as you do."

"No, you do not. It iz warfare zere, open warfare, an' without us ze war will only get worze."

"War? War against who?"

"War again' all zat is peazful and good, of courz. 'Oo else but Wizeman would fight for zat?" Jackle said bitterly.

Reala sighed and sat back. The leg of his pants caught on fire, causing him to jerk and spasm until he'd stuck his leg into the dirt like an ostrich's head. NiGHTS laughed uproariously, earning himself a shell to the forehead.

"Ow!"

"I've killed three people today alone, NiGHTS. I'm not in a good mood." Reala snapped. He looked out over the water. "Look, the sun's going down. And goddammit, the tide's coming in. NiGHTS, do you have a place to stay?" He asked, adding the last part slightly reluctantly.

"I do, but I'll have to sneak you past my landlady. She's crazy. You two would definitely set her off."

"Why? What iz wrong wizus?" Jackle asked.

"I dunno. She's just... not all there, is all." NiGHTS got up. "Come on! She likes to roam around the building at this hour, so we gotta hurry if we wanna make it in without her yelling in Italian at us!"

"Italian?" Reala asked.

"It sounds like Italian to me. I don't know, it's some foreign language. Now come on, or do you want to be wet all night?" The way NiGHTS said it caused Reala to suppress a single snicker (which he passed off as a sneeze) behind his hand.

He ran off, with Reala and Jackle in tow. Along the way he stopped and picked up his own skateboard. It was purple and decorated with golden and pink bands, and had a large red diamond shape in the middle. The three skated along the road, not knowing exactly what would be around the next corner.


	5. Know Thy Enemy, Know Thyself

Note: Don't own NiGHTS. Also, this chapter takes place back in Nightmare. Yeah, Wizeman's not too happy about his two best officers suddenly going AWOL. Puts a bit of a damper on your week, there, don't it?

**Chapter Five: Know Thy Enemy, Know Thyself**

_"What do you mean they've disappeared?!"_ Wizeman's thundering voice shook the cavernous throne room.

"Sir! We went to fetch them, but they were no longer in Commander Jackle's room, sir! All we found was blood and what looked like water on the floor."

_"FIND THEM!!" _Wizeman roared, enraged.

"Yes sir!" The lower officer disappeared in a puff of orange smoke, obviously afraid of Wizeman. Wizeman cursed and raged, his six hands clenched into fists and smashing things wildly. Another officer came scuttling in, dodging debris as he went.

"Sir!" he squeaked, "We've lost the western front! The enemy is coming in from the west and they've taken the outer fortress!"

_"DAMN!" _Wizeman shouted.

_"_Sir, what do you propose we do?"

"I propose you stop _standing around and get back to your damned flank!" _Wizeman ordered.

"Yes, sir!" The officer disappeared like the first, in a puff of smoke, only this officer's smoke was tinted green.

Each officer had their own designated smoke color so Wizeman could tell them apart without having to remember names. He's a God, for um, his sake. He has better things to do than sit around remembering names. In all his infinite wisdom, power, and authority, there was the soul of someone too lazy to remember the names of his own officers.

But I digress.

Wizeman got up from his throne and went to search Jackle's room himself. All he found was exactly as his officer reported. Blood, and water. Also, there was something more than only Wizeman could find.

"Show me." He commanded the room.

Wizeman had the ability (as Gods often do) to see vaguely what had happened in the past in this room before his officers disappeared. However, in his infinite power, he could not hear the conversation that had gone on. Although Wizeman did, in a sense, have the power to hear the memories, he chose not to use that power very often. Even Wizeman respected his officer's privacy.

He saw blurry, ghostlike figures of Reala and Jackle, figures like those "pictures" of the "Loch Ness Monster" the humans raved about so much, or so-called "photographic evidence" of "UFO's". The scene played out before him like an old silent film, jerky, faded, and inaudible.

He saw Reala lay his head at Jackle's side.

He saw Jackle weep for Reala.

He saw Reala getting closer and closer to Jackle until Wizeman was not sure who's body was whose.

He saw Reala storming about the room, raving and ranting about something or another.

He saw Reala sink to his knees in sorrow and weep.

He saw Jackle flop himself over Reala.

Then he saw a flash of light, like the light of all the Ideya combined. Then the two were gone.

Wizeman still did not understand. He decided to go against his own code and hear the event.

"Show me again." He commanded.

_"Do not worry yourself with me. I zhall be fine. I... You must underztand, Reala, zat you truly are all I 'ave left. I fought my bonds because I was not zure if you would be alive come next morning. I wanted to zave you from zat final blow that would snuff out the last flickering embers zat is your 'eart." _

_"You wouldn't dare outlive me, you bastard."_

_"You are right. I would 'ang myself in ze corridor before I let 'arm befall you. Because you are my brother." _

_"As you are mine."_

_"Reala..."_

_"Jackle. Please. Shall we make a pact? If we are to die, we are to die together, or not at all."_

_"I... I zhall live a thouzand years or more before I decide to die without you, my brother." _

_"Thank you... my brother." _

Wizeman continued to watch the scene in front of him with a sort of sick amusement. Hmm. Perhaps "amusement" is not the word. Perhaps... interest? Whatever the word, Wizeman was transfixed by the events that took place.

_"You an' I, brother, I know zis to be true. We... somezing put us in Nightmare to find a new purpose. I can feel it. We were not meant to be mere zoldiers in a fool's war." _

_"Jackle, people are dying, men are dying, women, children, Nightopians, Nightmarens, everything is perishing around us and you call this a fool's war?!"_

_"Only a fool would fight anoz-er living creature! Aren't we all in life? Aren't all lives worth zaving?"_

_"You don't think I understand that?! You don't think for a second that I know that this whole war is a mistake?! That all this death and bloodshed could be ended if Master Wizeman got his head out of his arse and saw the other side for once?! But think for once, Jackle, think! All around us people are dying, no, I take that back, people are being goddamn massacred right in front of our very eyes and nothing we do can end it! Nothing short of publicly committing suicide would get these thickheaded idiots to see the light!"_

Wizeman was taken aback by this statement. Get _his _head out of his ass? How dare he! He watched with more than interest now. He was a bit angry.

He saw Reala reach up and kiss Jackle fervently, frightenedly, desperately. Suddenly, the two vanished. Wizeman was frozen in place. A kiss? A _kiss? _Was a kiss not a symbol of love far beyond that of two brothers? Was a kiss not that of a love between those who, y'know, _weren't _related? Wizeman was about to send a call, when he suddenly froze.

Wizeman had a secret too. A secret well hidden. In all his infinite power and wisdom, he could not call upon his minions at will. He could not bring wayward minions back, otherwise he would have forced NiGHTS home long ago. He could not bring his minions back from the dead, otherwise Selph would never have died. He could not control his minions after they were created. He could only create and hope his creations obeyed him. However, if they, like NiGHTS, decided to leave, oh yes, he could send other minions who _did _obey him out to get them, but once they were gone, they were free. On their own. He had no idea where Jackle and Reala were, and even if he did, he was mentally struggling with himself to even allow them back at all after the blasphemous events that had taken place in this room.

Wizeman felt disgusted. He could not stand to be in this room any longer. He turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him so hard he broke the door frame and the door fell to the floor and splintered into many pieces.

He sat back upon his throne and angrily awaited the first unlucky bastard to give him bad news.


	6. Lesson

Note: Didja like the shortness of the last chapter? I'm making up for it here, I swear. No, not really. I'm busy lately and so these chapters may get progressively smaller and smaller for a while yet. I don't own NiGHTS or any references to any copyrighted material that may appear in my work, such as the numerous brand-name cereal names that appear in this chapter. I only own the full names of the characters (Harsh Reality, Shadows of the NiGHTS, Jackle in the Field, and Know Thyself) and this plot, oh, and the fact that I made Jackle French. I did. But I don't own anything else so please don't sue me.

**Chapter Six: Lesson **

NiGHTS hid behind a bush along with his brothers as a thin, spindly old lady went skulking around, mumbling in a foreign language to inanimate objects and other things.

_"Is she always like this?" _Reala asked in a low whisper.

_"Yep. Apparently she had a nasty nightmare once when she was a kid and it changed her."_

_". . . Her name wouldn't happen to be Angelique O'Marion, would it?"_

_"I think so, yeah, why?"_

_"That would be my bad."_

_"REALA!!"_

The woman named Angelique noticed the rustling in the bushes and began beating it with her cane, hitting the three brothers in the process. The three rushed into the house while the woman ran behind them, waving her cane and screaming, "THEY'RE AFTER ME LUCKY CHARMS!!"

NiGHTS ushered his brothers into his apartment and slammed and locked the door behind them.

"NiGHTS, as your twin brother I have to tell you that perhaps you should consider looking for an apartment in a less... insanity-riddled neighborhood."

"One, technically this is your fault. Two, this is the lowest rent apartment I could find."

"I wonder why."

Jackle, who had been silent up until this point, pointed out the window frightenedly.

"Look! She iz rounding on our skateboards! We have left zem out zere!" He exclaimed.

"Shit!" Reala swore. He looked out the window to see the old woman beating the three skateboards with her cane, screaming at them that "Trix is for kids!" and "keep away from me Lucky Charms!" and "You'll be cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!"

"Damn!" NiGHTS said. He called out the window. "Miss O'Marion! Miss O'Marion! Calm down!"

"You'll be after me Lucky Charms too, boy?!"

"No, I'm not after your Lucky Charms! I just want you to stop beating up our skateboards!"

"You're not after me Lucky Charms?"

Reala stuck his head out the window.

"No one is after your damn Lucky Charms, you old coot! Throw up the boards!"

Miss O'Marion seemed to calm down and she picked up the boards and walked inside. She walked up to the apartment and opened the door.

"Silly rabbits, Trix is for kids!" she said cheerfully as Reala took the boards and placed them under the kitchen table. Miss O'Marion left, smiling.

"Take care, ma'am!" NiGHTS interjected before nervously closing the door. "Man, she's nuts." He added after he was sure she had gone.

_"Et c'est toute votre faute." _Jackle muttered at Reala.

"Oh shut up. Never thought I'd run into the old bat again." Reala responded, raiding NiGHTS' mini-fridge for a soda, a beer, a juice-box, or any other sort of refreshing beverage. He settled on some generic-brand cola and shut the fridge door. "So," he asked NiGHTS, "How do you propose we get back home?"

"I don't think we do, Reala. I've been stuck here for months. I've tried everything. I even tried pledging my 'eternal allegiance' to Wizeman, and that didn't work. I tried absolutely everything and I don't think we're getting out of here."

"There's got to be a way; we couldn't have just been dropped here randomly!" Reala exclaimed with a wild gesticulation of his hands that sent soda spraying all over Jackle.

_"La montre où vous agitez qui peut, vous l'idiot!" _said Jackle angrily, wringing out his shirt and sputtering.

"Sorry, Jackle-- anyway, as I was saying, there has to be a reason for all of this! It's not just random; nothing is random! Everything happens for a reason and I want some goddamned answers!" Reala crushed the can in his claws, sending more cola spraying out everywhere like a fizzy fountain. NiGHTS raised an eyebrow and gave him a look.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm cleaning it up..." Reala mumbled, grabbing a rag and dropping it on the floor, then using his foot to move it around and wipe up the mess, then grabbed the rag and tossed it behind him into the hamper to be washed later. He grabbed another soda.

_"Peut-être nous devons ici apprendre une sorte de leçon, comme un Rêveur dans notre monde, seulement à reculons, parce que nous sommes les rêves. A-t-il du sens ?" _Jackle asked.

"Jackle! That may be the most intelligent thing you've ever said!" Reala responded, grabbing Jackle by the shoulders and planting a long-overdue kiss on him. Jackle squeaked in surprise but made no other effort to push him away. Reala broke off and laughed.

"What? What did he say?" NiGHTS asked, not being able to understand French.

"He said 'Perhaps we're here to learn some sort of lesson, like a Dreamer in our world, only backwards, because we're the dreams. Does that make sense?'" Reala responded. "I think it makes perfect sense! Dreamers come to the world of Dreams because they've got something they need to accomplish, right? Some lesson that needs to be learned, right? Well, perhaps we were sent here, to the Waking World, because _we _need something accomplished, but we can't be sent to the Dream world; we already live there! So the powers that be or whatever sent us here, like a reverse Dreamer! We're reverse Dreamers and we need to find out this lesson and learn it so we can go home!" Reala exclaimed, laughing madly. "Don't you see?! It was right in front of us the whole bloody time and we didn't see it!" Reala almost began to cry.

"Iz Reala all right?" Jackle asked.

"I don't know, he's kinda actin' crazy." NiGHTS responded. "But he's making sense."

"It wuz my idear!" Jackle protested.

"I know, but I don't speak French so I couldn't tell."

"Hmph... Anyway! Reala! What do you think zis lezzon iz zat we need to accomplish?"

"I don't know, but when the time comes, we will." He said, calming down. He tried to pop open his soda and his previous waving and wild motions had pressurized it, causing the whole can to explode on him when he opened it. "Gyaah!"

NiGHTS and Jackle exploded in raucous laughter.

Suddenly sirens were heard outside.

"Oh no! Jackle, you and I need to hide! NiGHTS, if those are the cops, we're not here. You live alone."

"Right!" Reala and Jackle ran out of the room and ran into a nearby guest bedroom, hiding in the closet.

NiGHTS answered the door. Two officers stood there.

"Hello, officers, what can I do for--" The bigger officer put up a hand to silence him.

"Are you Shadows of the NiGHTS?"

"Y-yes sir..."

"We've gotten a tip that you're harboring two wanted men. Can you confirm this claim?"

"N-no, sir, I can not. I live alone here." NiGHTS lied through his teeth.

"Mind if we take a look around?" The officers walked right into the apartment.

"Um, do-do you have a warrant?" NiGHTS tried to sound more confident.

"We're taking a look around, young man." The smaller officer said nastily.

"Er... er... um..." NiGHTS rushed upstairs, grabbing the three skateboards, yelling, "Reala! Jackle! We need to get out of here now!"

And so, three former Nightmarens ran out the back door, two cops in a cruiser on their asses, on skateboards, screaming for their lives.

"Reala! Jackle! Where will we go?"

_"N'importe où mais ici, Nuits!" _Jackle replied.

"What?"

"Anywhere but here!" Jackle called.

_"Stop! In the name of the law, we order you to stop!" _

"KEEP RUNNING!" Reala screamed.

Finally, the three managed to evade the cruiser underneath the same pier they started from.

They stood catching their breath.

"We are back at zquare one!" Jackle cried.

"Damn. Well, now what do we do?" Reala replied.

"Well, I think we can't go back to my apartment now." NiGHTS said.

All three of them exchanged a similar look.

"This sucks." They said in unison.


	7. Let Me Fight Your Battles

Note: Shut up. I know I haven't updated, alright? I promised my DeviantART fans there would be an update. Jeez... -sigh- Well... It's crappy, it's quick, and it's thrown out to appease my fans, but here you go, a new chapter for you ravenous beasts. Sorry I sound so gruff, but I was stuck in the doctor's for four hours yesterday while they drew blood and stuck needles in me and did all sorts of other painful tests to my frail human body. I'm an angry, angry human being today, despite the fact that today was the last day of school and I now have the entire summer to waste away on my chair, typing fanfiction. Ten glorious frigging weeks of nothing but sunshine, beaches, and then I turn the TV off and write fanfiction in my nice dark little room as I grow pale and gaunt. Ah, sweet, sweet summertime.

I don't own NiGHTS, nor will I ever. So don't ask.

**Chapter Seven : Let Me Fight Your Battles**

Reala punched the very pillar from which he'd torn out wood to make a fire. He punched it hard enough to fracture it and splinter the wood. He swore loudly as he heard the police cruisers siren overhead.

"Shit!"

"Reala, shush! Do you want them to hear us?" NiGHTS whispered frantically.

"At this point, I don't even care! We're back where we started, we're stuck with _you, _and worst yet, I'm still a blasted human! How long must we suffer for?" Reala snapped.

"Reala, we must lie in wait until ze prey comes near uz, zis time."

"Jackle, your small, feeble mind cannot possibly begin to comprehend what is going on right now. We're _trapped. _Trapped in the _Human world. _We're possibly going to be trapped here for the rest of our days, awaiting a lesson that is never to be learned. Wizeman's never going to take us back, not after what happened. Even if we miraculously make it home, we'll be trapped in limbo forever. We're in a lose-lose situation and dammit, it's all my own fault." Reala's voice cracked, shaking Jackle by the shoulders gently, but then letting him go and turning his back.

_"Il qui supporte le blâme pour lui, est destiné pour aussi porter la culpabilité, mon cher." _Jackle said softly, not looking Reala in the eye but instead inspecting his blunt, vibrant, neon-orange fingernails lazily, his glove held limply underneath the opposite arm.

"Don't _call _me 'dear'." Reala snapped in response.

NiGHTS groaned. "Jackle, either speak English or teach me French, ok? Either way, I'm not being left out of this conversation."

"Like trying to be teaching you anyzing iz going to 'elp any." Jackle muttered, biting back curses. He was getting irritated with NiGHTS' apparent inability to understand 'plain French'. Jackle had a bit of a mental block going on where he had the naive idea that if he could speak French, the rest of the world must be able to as well.

"Ex-_cuse _me? What did you say?" NiGHTS snapped.

"You 'eard me, you little toad!"

"Oh, no. No, no, no. You did _not _just say that."

"I am to be believing zat I did, _monsieur." _

_"Shut up!"_

"Hey, hey, hey!" Reala shouted through the resultant arguing to no avail. He rolled his eyes, stuck his pinkies in his mouth, and let loose a piercing shriek of a whistle. "We all quiet now?" NiGHTS and Jackle nodded, covering their ears with their hands.

"Good. Now, listen to me. Listen to me closely." Reala said through gritted teeth. "We are trapped beneath a pier in southern _somewhere. _We know it's southern because it's warm, and south means warm, right, NiGHTS?"

"From what I understand, yes. I believe we're somewhere called California, but I could be wrong."

"Close enough. We're trapped beneath a pier in southern California, we're hungry, we're homeless, we've no way to get home, we're fugitives from the law, and as much as it _pains _me to say it, if we're going to make it, we need to form a team. Three heads better than one and all that."

There was awkward silence among the group for a long moment. Finally, NiGHTS nodded and stuck his scarred arm out in front of him, followed by Reala's nicotine-stained fingers (although he knew full well it wasn't nicotine, but just his transformation, but still, it looked like nicotine, therefore Reala referred to it as nicotine stains.) , and finally Jackle's shaking orange-gloved claw.

"All for one, one for all and all that crap?" Reala said.

"If it gets us home." NiGHTS replied.

_"À l'infinité et au-delà ?" _Jackle offered, a goofy grin on his face. He was promptly smacked by Reala, who, believe it or not, was smiling.

Jackle smiled back and put his hand on Reala's shoulder.

_"Regarde, ce qui arrive, ou ce qui vient notre voie, je serai là pour vous. Je ne me soucie pas si je meurs en le faisant. Vous êtes ma première priorité, parce que je vous aimerai toujours. S'il est sur le champ de bataille, ou si c'est ici à côté des signes roulants, savoir que je suis votre frère, votre protecteur, votre ami et votre amant." _Jackle said firmly, his one undestroyed eye locked onto Reala's two with fiery determination and fierce devotion. Reala reached up and placed his free hand over Jackle's gently.

"I know. Jackle, you and I are brothers, and as much as my conscience won't let me get you hurt any further, I know, for my sake, I cannot stop you. But Jackle, for both of our sakes, you've got to stay alive for me. That means you've got to take orders that might seem unreasonable. If I'm in trouble and I tell you to run, you've got to run. You can't look back. Just run, and trust that I have a plan, okay? Jackle, back in Nightmare, you took blows for me that would have ended my life, and if not for you, I wouldn't be alive. I owe so much to you, and in return you ask for nothing. It amazes me how you continue to put your life on the line for me again and again and still remain so modest and shy. You've done so much for me, and I feel as though I do not deserve it. So please, let me earn it. Stay alive for me. Let me be your protector for once. Too long have I hidden in your shadow while you fought my battles. It's time I fought some of yours." Reala dipped his head in and captured Jackle's lips with his own, and the latter returned with long-overdue enthusiasm. Enthusiasm enough that Reala was able to lift him off his feet and Jackle wrapped his arms around Reala's neck, before the kiss broke for air and the two exchanged twitchy smiles.

NiGHTS sniffled, unnoticed, from behind the pair, truly touched at Reala's words, although he couldn't understand Jackle's. And the kiss; gasp! How beautiful! NiGHTS hadn't known of Reala's feelings towards anything up until now. Or anyone.

Reala turned to NiGHTS, arm around Jackle's shoulders, whose arm was around Reala's, and they seemed to be glued at the hip.

"Let's start thinking of a game plan, here." He said.

"It iz 'ard enough with no food and no zhelter,_ mon amour." _Jackle scolded gently. "Let uz fulfill bazic nezzezetez firzt."

"Basic necessities, yes." Reala looked around. "So, what have we got here? We've got sand, and wood, but not a lot of wood, because we don't need the pier collapsing on us--"

"Oh, don't worry, no one uses that pier anymore. It's been deemed unsafe. We can rip out as much as we like and as long as we get out of the way we can tear down this whole mad dream house and build ourselves a bloody mansion." NiGHTS interjected, sort of crowbar-ing his way in between Jackle and Reala to throw his arms around both of their shoulders.

"Ap, bup, bup, bup, bup," Reala scolded, bumping NiGHTS back out, "That hip's for Jackle only." He grinned, "But that's nice to know. Let's get building, boys!"

**End of Ch 7 **


	8. The Fearsome Foursome

Note: Is it just me, or is Schnitzel from the new Cartoon Network show Chowder a much more awesome character than he lets on? Hmm.

BUUUUUUT I digress. This fanfic is NiGHTS, not Chowder. Neither franchise which I own or ever will. Oh, the agony of defeat.

**Chapter Eight: The Fearsome Foursome**

NiGHTS cleared his throat loudly, attempting to get the attention of two intertwined, moaning blurs of orange and red to no avail. NiGHTS cleared his throat loudly once again.

_"Oh, mon amour ... vos mains a l'impression d'être la caresse d'anges..." _Jackle moaned softly. His claws tightened around Reala's neck and head.

_"Oh, mon frère ... vos lèvres taquine le mien dans une danse éternelle..." _Reala whispered. He gathered Jackle deeper into his arms. Their lips met once again, as Reala backed his young lover up against a pillar. Hips rolled against each other, hands roamed lithe bodies, eyes slid shut, and tongues danced in an epic waltz as NiGHTS rolled his eyes. Sure, at first it was cute, touching even, but now it was becoming more like live porn and NiGHTS was getting a little annoyed, especially when the removal of pants was involved.

"AHEM!" NiGHTS nearly shouted. Reala and Jackle's heads snapped towards their blonde brother.

"What?" Reala snapped.

"We're supposed to be thinking of a game plan, not making out!" NiGHTS whined.

"This is our game plan," Reala said cheekily, "Swallow each other's tongues so when the cops come to call, we can't say a word."

Jackle snickered.

"Ugh, don't take his side!" NiGHTS scolded Jackle. "Can we please get things going right?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Reala and Jackle broke apart.

"Thank you. Now, if we can just come up with something..."

Reala groaned. "You know, this kind of crap never happened when Selph was still alive."

NiGHTS let out a sound halfway between an apologetic sob and a choke. "Well, he's not, okay?! He's not, so stop it! He's dead and nothing is gonna bring him back, okay?!" NiGHTS cried, decking Reala as hard as he could in the chest, sending the other reeling to the sand.

"I didn't mean anything by it, NiGHTS, all I said was this never happened when he was still alive!"

"Just shut up, okay, shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" NiGHTS grabbed his head and fell to his knees, crying. "Shut up... shut up..."

"NiGHTS, I'm sorry, okay? Jesus H Christ, man, calm yourself. I don't blame you for his death. If anything, I blame him for being gullible enough to fall into what was obviously a trap."

NiGHTS fell to his side and curled into an agonized fetal shape.

"_Nuits_, for ze love of God... Zelph'z death waz not your fault. Good God, man, get off ze floor. You're embarrazzing yourzelv." Jackle said, pulling on NiGHTS' arm.

"It _was _my fault, though, it was! I killed him with my own hands! I did it! It was me! It was my fault!" NiGHTS squeaked.

"NiGHTS, come on, get up. We don't blame you. Come on, let's sit around the fire and reminisce on times when he was alive, yes?" Reala dragged NiGHTS off the ground and pushed him near the fire. The sun had set, casting a fiery glow over the pseudo-campers.

"I remember, I waz very young, _non? _He wazzere, wizzuz, and I remember 'ee uz'd to fix my toyz when zey became broken, _oui? _'Ee 'eard me weep from my bedroom, and would come in to fix ze problem. Until I became older I uz'd to zink he waz an angel zent from Wizeman to cure any ill." Jackle said, smiling lightly and gazing into the fire.

"He and I, well, I can't say we were close, that's for sure, but we got on alright. We usually stayed out of each other's way and only really interacted when it was necessary. We weren't overly close but I do remember he was quite intelligent. I used to ask him all sorts of questions and he would always have an answer. I remember there were only a few times which he didn't have an answer for what I asked, and I do remember that he was blunt about it. He never lied to me, but instead always told me frank that he didn't know. He was honest." Reala said.

"H-he and I never got along well, actually... He must have sensed that I'd b-b-betray Wizeman sooner or later... He must have known right from the start. We never really talked... it was always awkward conversation... I know he didn't like me much. My only wish is that he'll come back and I can tell him how sorry I am for... you know... murdering him. I didn't mean it..." NiGHTS ended with a whisper.

Reala pointed to the sky. "NiGHTS, didn't you mention something about shooting stars?"

NiGHTS looked up. "It's only a plane, Reala."

"Well, use your imagination. Shooting stars don't occur every night in this lively city. Pretend. Make a wish, why don't you?"

NiGHTS smiled at Reala. "Okay.

"Star light

Star Bright

First star I see tonight

I wish I may

I wish I might

Please grant the wish I wish tonight.

I wish that Selph were alive again, and I wish I could tell him how sorry I am."

The plane seemed to shimmer in midair as it ducked and twisted it's way through the clouds, finally disappearing into fog.

"Wow, what an anticlimactic ending." Reala commented dryly.

NiGHTS looked downcast. "Well, I hope he heard me in Heaven anyway..."

"Heard you what?"

Three heads flipped around in shock. Three pairs of eyes grew wide. Three jaws dropped open.

"What? What are you three staring at?"

Three voices joined in a cacophony of unintelligible babbling.

Selph raised an eyebrow and sat back.

"Guys, I know it's been a while, but for God's sake, calm down. I know-- OOF!" NiGHTS barreled into Selph's muscled chest. "Hey, calm down, okay? Look, I know you didn't mean to cause me any harm, I just-- are you crying?" NiGHTS nodded. "Again, look, I know. Chi-hill ah-hout..."

"How are you here?" Reala asked.

"When Nightmaren die, they don't leave for good, they're just trapped in limbo. An empty void, so to speak. When NiGHTS started wishing, I found a portal out. It dropped me here. As you can see, it changed my looks as well."

NiGHTS stepped back to look at his brother.

Hair the color of molten gold spiked up and back in a porcupine-like fashion cascaded down Selph's head and back to about his elbows. His eyes were ruby red. His skin was translucent ivory, so pale you could see veins underneath. He wore a faded black tight T shirt, with gold mesh sleeves. His legs seemed to change the way Reala's had, into exaggeratedly wide-bottomed black pants decorated with golden trim and chains. To top it off he wore a choker around his neck, gold links, with a dog tag hanging from it that read Know Thyself. He had a tattoo of a black stripe across his nose.

Selph patted his brother on the shoulder. "I've been watching you guys for a while. Yes, Reala and Jackle, I see you in the corner over there looking embarrassed. I saw you making out over there, don't think I didn't. Brother sees all, man, brother sees all. Glad I popped up before pants became shredded."

NiGHTS sniffled. "Selph, can you ever forgive me?"

"I already have, NiGHTS. I already have."


	9. The Boys Are Back in Town

Note: Ah, yes, Reala is a smartass. Thank you for noticing.

I don't own NiGHTS, but I own my brain, which is just as good. I hope.

**Chapter Nine: The Boys Are Back in Town**

With Selph near to them, things became more amiable, if slightly awkward, around the ol' campfire, despite Jackle's complaining.

_"Que je ne donnerais pas pour de la viande... Peut-être un peu de lait ... les aliments comme cela me gaspille loin..." _He complained, whining from his spot in Reala's lap.

"Well, we don't have any of those things, so learn to live with what we've got. We're wanted men." Reala said back tiredly.

"So you guys never told me how you're so sure the cops won't find you under here." Selph said through a gold-lipped mouth full of mussels.

"This place is totally unsafe for construction and stuff, so the police won't go anywhere near it. Totally unsafe. Like, been rotting for years unsafe. Wobbly and stuff." NiGHTS replied.

"Ain't you afraid it's gonna collapse on you?" Selph asked.

"Well, there is always that possibility but I'm sure it won't happen. Not yet anyway." NiGHTS said cheerfully.

"You never bloody mentioned _that!_ Great! Now we're trapped beneath a pier in southern California, we're humans, we're hungry, we're homeless, we've no way to get home, we're fugitives from the law, _and _we have the potential to be crushed underneath an unsafe pier! Thanks for increasing my guilt, NiGHTS, now I'll never sleep again." Reala snapped, albeit slightly in humor.

"Sorry! I was going to tell you but I forgot." NiGHTS said.

_"Vous bâtard! Je vous tuerai!" _Jackle shrieked, jumping from his spot and tackling NiGHTS to the ground. _"Comment pourriez-vous juste oublier de mentionner quelque chose si importante ?!" _He finished, shaking NiGHTS by the throat.

Reala jumped into action and pried Jackle's claws off of NiGHTS' throat before the latter's neck looked like his arms. "Jackle, no! It isn't worth it! It's not a big deal and you'll only attract attention!" Finally, Reala managed to get his arms around Jackle's chest and abdomen and pull him back kicking and screaming. "Jackle, calm down, now!" Jackle still raged on. "Jackle in the Field! _Je vous ordonne de cesser votre rage cet instant! _Are you listening to me? I order you to cease and desist! Now!" Finally, Jackle calmed down, breathing heavily. He went limp in Reala's arms. "Now, do you promise to stop this foolishness?" Reala spoke softly.

"Az you weesh." Jackle replied darkly before wrenching himself out of Reala's grasp and sitting back at the fire.

Selph burst out in raucous laughter. "Dude, that was awesome! It looked like I was watching a cartoon!"

Jackle glared at him darkly, and Selph suddenly grimaced and inched away a little bit, a little disturbed at the image of one green eye and one deep empty eye socket glaring at him.

NiGHTS got up and coughed. "Are you freaking nuts? You could have killed--"

"NiGHTS, let it go. It's over now." Reala said, holding up a hand.

"Don't take his side! He tried to kill me! You're only agreeing with him because you're sleeping with him!"

"That's not true, NiGHTS, and you know it. I'm not agreeing with either one of you! I'm telling you to let it go, because it was both of your faults! You for setting Jackle off in the first place, and Jackle for snapping into a blind rage about it! Now either we make up and be friends, or I separate you two and trust me, that won't be pleasant. Understand? Drop it, NiGHTS. It's a sad, sad day when I have to be the voice of reason around here." Reala finished. He then coughed embarrassedly. "And please, could you not bring up the whole 'sleeping with him' thing? For God's sake, man, be a little more subtle." He mumbled before sitting back down and grabbing a mussel and dropping it on the flames.

_"Pourquoi devrait il ? Que, êtes-vous embarrassés de moi, le grand frère ?" _Jackle replied jokingly.

"No, I'm not embarrassed of _you, _Jackle, I'm embarrassed because our long lost older brother is sitting right there and the first thing he has to sit through is details of our sex lives." Reala said.

"Hey, don't worry about me, dudes. I told you, Brother sees all, dude. I already know all this. Although, honestly, Reala, I would have expected you to end up with NiGHTS for some reason. I don't know."

"_Excuse me?!"_

_"Excusez-moi?!" _

_"Come again?!" _

"I don't know. I just sort of saw it as a thing where Reala would want NiGHTS' compassion and cheerfulness to keep him in line, and NiGHTS would need Reala's strength and ferocity. I don't know. It just seemed right. But Jackle's good, too, man. Honestly, I always got along best with Jackle. Not to say I don't love you guys too, but I always remember spending the most time with the kiddo."

Reala sighed. "Well, listen, we're not getting anywhere just sitting around shooting the breeze. We need to think of a plan."

Selph laughed. "You want a plan? Listen to this."

Selph leaned in close to the other brothers until they all were huddled close around the fire.

"Okay, here's the plan. Once, every, say, I think it's... 650 years or so, there's a comet that flies by this area. This comet's got some crazy juju, man. Crazy-ass juju. Makes portals all over the place; they look like Rings. We find the one that brings us back to the Night Dimension and Boom! We're home. But there's a hitch. Not only can only one of us fly through at a time, but as soon as someone flies through, the portal disappears and reappears somewhere else in the world. It can be anywhere. And they don't last all that long, only about a week each if no one flies through, then they disappear and reappear somewhere else again."

"This sounds like the plot of a bad fanfiction, but go on, go." Reala interjected.

"Whatever, dude, I'm just tellin' you what I know. Anyway, the next time the comet's supposed to come around is in a couple of weeks. It only lasts for the month. Then it's another 650 years until you even have a possible chance of getting home. That'll make the locals suspicious, because according to what I've found, humans are only supposed to live for about 70 or 80 years. We've got to work fast. As soon as we find the first portal, I say NiGHTS goes in first. He's been here the longest, he deserves to get home first. Then, the three of us will find the next portal, and then I say Reala goes in next, because I honestly don't trust Jackle on his own. Sorry, kiddo, but it had to be said. Next portal, Jackle will go in, then I'll go in last. Once we're all safely back home, we'll figure out what to do from there."

"'Ow will we know which portal iz ze right one?"

"It shows a picture, like a crystal ball. Trust me you'll know."

Reala cocked his head. "How do you know all this?"

Selph laughed.

"What do you think I did in limbo those hundreds of years? Sat around on my ass? Let's get ready for some fireworks, boys. We're goin' home."

"But wait. Why were we sent here in the first place?"

"To learn a lesson. What have we all learned here today?" Selph said.

"Well, I learned that sometimes wishing on a star can bring you the hope you always wanted, even if your wish itself doesn't come true." NiGHTS said wistfully.

"I learned not to piss off gang members and cops." Reala said.

"What else, Reala? Really." NiGHTS said.

"Quiet, you. Ugh, alright. I learned that teamwork is sometimes the best way to solve your problems, and that working alone can only get you into trouble."

_"J'ai appris que la guerre est partout, que peu importe auquel il ne mettra pas fin, cette histoire se répétera toujours et que je devrais accepter que l'on m'a donné dans la vie, car cela pourrait toujours être tellement plus mauvais. _Oh, and zat _Nuits _iz not a good outlet for my ztress." Jackle added the last part sheepishly.

Selph and NiGHTS looked at Jackle oddly.

"Could you repeat that in English?"

"No. Deal wif'fit." Jackle pouted.

Reala groaned. "He said, 'I learned that war is everywhere, that no matter what it will not end, that history will always repeat itself, and that I should accept what I have been given in life, for it could always be so much worse.'" Reala said.

"Now that I understand." NiGHTS said.

"So now what?" Reala said.

"Now we just sit around and wait until the comet shows up. Freaky fireworks light show in the sky, man. Sit back and watch the fireworks, boys, we're goin' home."

**End of Chapter Nine**

Ooh, what'll happen? Let's find out!


	10. Bloodbath

Note: Well, as all bad plot-twists go, here's mine. You people do realize I make this s#! up as I go along, right? I really have no game plan for this crap. Anyway, this chapter takes place back in Nightmare, so as to check up on everyone's favorite blingin' God. Gotta know he's not happy.

Also, sorry about the delay but family crap got in the way. Plus the fair's in town and I'M NOT MISSING THE CARNIVAL FOR A FANFIC. They have teriyaki shrimp on a stick and DEMOLITION DERBIES and DAMNED if I'm missing THAT for THIS.

_**I AM CARZILLA! HEAR ME ROAR!! **_-cough-

I don't own NIGHTS. ;;;;

**Chapter Ten: Bloodbath**

Finally, the throes of war had calmed themselves to mere skirmishes along the outskirts of Nightmare, not worthy of Wizeman's attention. Unfortunately, the Nightmaren were losing ground fast, and the Nightopian army was threatening to win the war. The destruction was widespread.

"As the humans say... 'Every rose has its thorns.' This war was my rose, my way of finally destroying the force that opposed me... yet we lose. How? How could we lose? It was perfect!" Wizeman clenched his fists. All six of them. "It was all Reala and Jackle's doing. They were planning against me from the start, just like NiGHTS. How could I make the same mistake over and over again? I gave them too much free will. All four of them..."

Wizeman glanced out the window to see a minor skirmish taking place near the Tower. Only fifty or so Nightmaren against at least twice as many Nightopians. Wizeman didn't pay the numbers much attention; after all, Nightopians were so small. So weak.

"Yes... even Selph... so loyal to me, yet it was his own choice that gave him that loyalty. He could have run off with the others, yet he chose to stay with me and was killed for his efforts... He was weak and gullible. So weak..." Wizeman was alerted when a puff of purple smoke exploded at his feet. He looked down and one of his officers stood.

"Step up and speak now, then leave my presence..." Wizeman ordered simply.

The officer bowed in respect. "Sir, we have word that Thorad's Comet will pass this area in less than two weeks."

"Blasted comet. In that time, tell all troops to fall back and order a temporary cease-fire until the comet passes. It makes both Nightmaren and Nightopians weak and unable to battle."

"Yes, sir!" And with that, the soldier was gone.

Wizeman glanced back out the window again.

"Damn you, comet, and your mystical abilities. Will you merely cause my soldiers to falter? Or will you bring wayward sons home again?"

He sighed. Then he growled.

"Damn you, Reala! Damn you Jackle! Damn you NiGHTS! I don't know where you are, but I'll destroy you all the same! You leave me in the midst of war, betray me for _each other _of all people, you blaspheme my name in the name of _peace? _I have no sons..."

Wizeman glanced out his window.

"I am a God, and yet I made a foolish mistake..." Wizeman slumped in defeat. "Perhaps... perhaps they were... right? Perhaps this war is foolish...Grrrr-- NO! This war is perfect! They will not stop me, and neither will the Nightopians!" Wizeman stood from his throne to see to the defeat of his opposers personally.


End file.
